


Gold Trans Am

by MissGillette



Series: Xavierine Rare Pair Hell [5]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bossy Charles, Explicit Sexual Content, Inspired by a Ke$ha Song, Logan Rides a Motorcycle, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGillette/pseuds/MissGillette
Summary: Logan breaks down on a desert highway, out of gas. A pretty, young thing in Daisy Dukes and a crop top picks him up in a gold Trans Am.





	

**Author's Note:**

> FUCKING. KE$HA. I love that gOD damn song. Definitely give Gold Trans Am a listen while/before you read this. Enjoy the porn. Comment below, you horny bastards.
> 
> Wanna make it official? [Follow this](http://missgillette.tumblr.com)

90 degrees and direct sunlight aren’t as pleasant standing still as they are while doing 70 on a motorcycle. Logan wipes his sweaty forehead for a countless time. His other hand sticks out with a pleading thumb. His helmet and leather jacket lie abandoned, draped across the worn seat of his bike. All he has to his name is his license in his wallet, maybe $20, and a knife holstered at his hip. Logan shifts his weight to the other foot and grumbles to the unforgiving sun above. No cell reception and no gas station for miles have him down, but not out. Right about now, he’s cursing all those hitchhiker murders that happened in the 80s. If it weren’t for them… 

The growl of a tiger, or damn well near, from behind him knocks Logan out of his angry cursing. The wind from the west carries dust towards him. It initially blocks the approach of the beast, which Logan knows it’s not a real tiger, but it’s a distinct rumble. The decal of the flaming bird rises from the dust faster than the rest of the car. But once everything settles, minus the uptick of Logan’s heart and the growl of the engine, a Trans Am materializes out of the desert. It’s gold, to match the desolation of this place. 

Logan’s arm drops to his side with a flop. The white t-shirt near his underarm is damp, with a dull sweat spot spreading to the spine of his back. He squints through his sunglasses as the driver kills the engine. They stare each other down. Or at least Logan stares at the bit of face he can see through the windshield. Another pair of sunglasses watches him, perched on a pale face. Logan sniffs to clear dust from his nose and shifts on his feet again. There is only one of two types of people getting ready to climb out of this heap. It’ll either be an older man trying to reclaim the glory days—Logan’s first pick—or some A-type prick who likes slow, 80’s cars. Logan squares his shoulders, ready for that, and then receives a curve ball straight to the head. 

Long, naked legs step out of the car during a pause in traffic. Cut offs with the tips of the pockets showing cover delicate things between those legs, but not by much. Pulling himself—herself, Logan questions—the rest of the way out with pink fingernails, the driver drags a pale hand through tossed, brown hair. His crop top flutters in a barely-there breeze, showing off a stomach suited to someone who sits at a desk but is fighting the fight against weight gain. Across his chest in neon-pink, cursive font, “Baby Slut” leaps off the white top and into Logan’s eyes. The kid struts around the car with a twist of his hips and confidently set shoulders. It’s only when he’s finally at the nose of the Firebird, a safe few feet from Logan’s bike, does Logan realize how short he is. 

Blue eyes twinkle at him over the rim of pulled-down shades. Those eyes don’t bother hiding the languid, obscene glance he makes up and down Logan’s body. Their stares meet once he takes his fill—for now, the glance teases—and settles for ogling Logan’s face. 

“Need a ride?” A posh, decidedly not-American voice asks him. 

Logan blinks behind his glasses and cranes his head back a bit. He’d press both palms to his ears to stop the world from spinning if it wouldn’t make him look foolish. Another breeze, stiffer than the last, bowls over them. The dry heat gets at the driver’s hair and curls in around his pink cheeks, outlining the height of his cheekbones. A toss of the stranger’s head flings his hair out of his face, only for it to fall back into place. There’s sweat already on his bare upper lip, but Logan doesn’t mind. A growing smirk below that bowed lip shakes Logan out of his own ogling. 

“Ran out of gas.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the bike. “It don’t really move without liquid persuasion.” 

The driver nods and pushes his sunglasses higher on his face. He twists in the sand and gravel of the highway’s shoulder and saunters back to the Trans Am. Logan stays rooted to the spot, watching the shift of that tight ass under his shorts. A chuckle floats past his ears to tuck the wild hair around his head back down. Logan shivers in the desert heat and drags his gaze up, up a strong back begging to be bent in half to those blue eyes trying to eat him alive over sunglasses again. 

“Coming?” 

“Not yet,” Logan mutters to the wind before responding, “Right behind you, bub.” 

The inside of the Trans Am is about what Logan had expected. It’s pretty original, fake chrome accents and circle cluster of gauges in the dash. Logan barely has the door shut and seat belt in hand when the driver slams in, turns the engine over, and guns it back onto the road. Logan rolls against the door, punching the nub of the lock down to keep him in the car, and braces his feet against the floorboard. A honk drones as they cut someone off, and the rear tires spray gravel at other motorists. The Trans Am doesn’t fly like a bat out of hell, but it gives a show and roars while doing it. The kid next to him sets them straight on the road with a hoot and slouches in his seat once they’ve put some distance between them and the bike. 

“Jesus, kid,” Logan grumbles with a hand rubbing over his face. “You drive stick like the damn thing’s got herpes.” 

He shrugs. “Why drive calmly when you can be EXCITED by the experience!” He pops up a little in the seat when “excited” races past his lips. A square, warm hand slips off the steering wheel and somehow finds a path to the top of Logan’s thigh. Still minding the road, the kid flicks his eyebrows up and murmurs, “I’m Charles.” 

Logan stares down at the pretty, spotless hand squeezes the muscle of his thigh. He practically hears the navy denim squeak under Charles’ painted fingernails. His fingertips are five burning points of contact through Logan’s jeans. Logan’s jeans rub against the leather and cloth seat beneath him as he shifts, trying to make his stiffening erection less obvious. It’s only when Charles removes his hand to gear down that Logan’s brain kick starts and yells at him to answer. 

“Uh, Logan.” 

Charles hums as they crawl through a heavy patch of traffic on the two lane, desert highway. Tangling his left hand in his hair, Charles leans back in his seat. He flicks the AC higher between gears, and the air chills the sweat on both of them. It’s not the best air conditioning, but it’s an improvement from outside. Logan keeps his eyes to himself, lest he spy the tiny peaks of this kid’s nipples under his crop top. He might start drooling over all that pale, freckled skin. Eventually, they break free from the traffic and return to cruising speed. Logan glances at a sign that advertises gas stations in five miles when that friendly hand returns to his thigh. 

“Where are you headed to on that motorbike of yours?” Charles asks when the silence in the car grows too thick. 

“Area 51,” Logan deadpans. “Gonna catch some aliens.” 

Charles giggles next to him and inches his hand slightly higher on Logan’s thigh. “Far out. Send me a space postcard if they suck you up into their ship, yea?” 

The absurdity of the joke and Charles going along with it sets loose something fluttery in Logan’s stomach. Logan tries to stifle his laughter, but it breaks out of him and bowls him over. He pounds the meat of his fist into the top of the door, where the window is rolled up. Charles laughs again beside him, not fazed by Logan’s lighthearted ribbing. His hand disappears again with a slow drag as they pull off the highway. A filling station looms before them after they exit, and Logan has never been happier to see cheap, off-brand gas. The desert wind socks him in the face when Charles parks by a pump and he opens the door. 

“Gotta buy a can,” Logan complains into the car before he pushes the door shut behind him. 

Charles nods through the window and waves him on. Logan thinks for half a second that the kid will blow him a kiss, too, but Charles just smiles at him. Gas can swiftly purchased from a bored cashier, he crosses the parking lot back to the pump. A peek through the windows reveals that Charles hasn’t moved and is picking at his nails in fact. Logan snorts at the sight and kneels down by the back wheel, gas pump in hand. He’d prepaid, not wanting to make another trip inside. On this side of the car, hunkered close to the ground and trying not to breathe in fumes, Logan barely hears the soft thump of the driver’s side door opening and closing. He doesn’t lift his head when he calls out to Charles. 

“Almost done.” 

Sneakered feet step into his line of sight on the other side of the can. Logan releases the pump’s trigger and lifts his head. His gaze travels up Charles’ body without lingering to investigate anything closely. He’s surer than ever that Charles is commando under those tiny shorts, though. His obvious bulge and knobby hipbones jutting above the belt loops of his shorts scream it. Keeping his trigger hand down to not splash gas everywhere, Logan drags the other up from hold the can. With the backs of his permanently stained hands—skin turned dark from engine grease and grime—Logan caresses up the inside of Charles’ pale leg.

Charles’ sunglasses guard his expression from leaking through his eyes. Logan catches the subtle opening of his mouth, though, and eyes his white teeth barely visible behind his lips. The higher Logan’s fingers travel, the louder Charles’ breaths through his nose become. Logan’s fingers slip under the ragged, cut hem of the shorts. The skin welcomes his touch with warmth and softness, only a bare prick of hair where someone had shaved it away. He could fondle Charles through the leg of his shorts, even thinks about it, when a noise slips out from the back of Charles’ throat. It startles Charles, bringing blood up to his face and down the milky flesh of his unblemished neck. Licking his lips, Charles widens his stance ever so slightly. Logan’s eyebrows twitch towards his hairline, though, and he drops his curious hand back to the can.

Logan rises slowly from his crouch with the gas can still at their feet. The pump handle clicks back into the cradle without Logan really taking the time to look at it. The blush is still in full swing on Charles’ face, only obscured by his sunglasses. He alternates from biting his lower lip to licking it. Logan’s hand flinches by his side, still burning at the ends where he’d touched Charles’ thigh. He resists the urge to reach up and hold Charles’ jaw still, to stop him from abusing his poor, lower lip. 

Instead, he shrugs and grumbles, “Can’s full. Let’s go.” 

Logan bends his knees to twist the cap on and hoist it up, but Charles’ small hand on his bicep stops him. 

“Logan,” he begins quietly, “after we return to your bike… Would you like to accompany me back to my hotel nearby?” 

Gaze unwavering and giving nothing away, Logan stares at him. 

“If only to escape this awful”—Charles steps over the can, immediately into Logan’s personal space—”unbearable”—his breath drifts over Logan’s chin—”heat.” 

The “t” in heat bounces off Logan’s lips in a kick of air. Logan’s gaze somehow surfaces from the ocean of Charles’ eyes, and he glances around the parking lot. People are staring at them, some not so friendly either. A wounded, impatient groan from Charles wrangles his attention back to the task at hand. With a hand firmly on Charles’ shoulder, Logan scoots him back and bends down to grab the can. He has plenty of filthy, terrible ideas of what “accompanying” Charles anywhere involves. However, any of these things would be difficult to follow through on if they’re both shot because of their persuasion. 

“Get back in the car and I’ll think about it.” 

Charles nods, oblivious to their audience, and dashes around the front of the car to return to the driver’s seat. The trunk pops once he swoops into the car, and Logan slots the can snug against the spare tire so it doesn’t fall over. He climbs back into the car without fanfare, buckles his seat belt, and holds on when Charles tears out of the station’s parking lot. He’s jittery and bouncing around in his seat like they can’t get back to Logan’s bike fast enough. The angry growl of tires going over the line and onto the grooved shoulder one too many times sets Logan on edge. He throws an arm over the center console and wraps his hand around the nape of Charles’ neck. 

“Chill out, bub. We’ll never get there if you crash the damn car.” 

Logan’s words or the forceful grip he has on the back of Charles’ neck calm him. Or at least it calms him enough to drive properly, because the tent in his shorts certainly doesn’t go down. Everyone once in awhile, Charles squirms under his hand. Logan doesn’t let go. The muscles and sinew will shift under his fingertips sometimes, and Logan picks up the frantic race of Charles’ heartbeat. Sweat beads up in Logan’s palm, trapped between the short, thick locks of Charles’ hair and his neck. But he doesn’t worry about it, since sweat will be the last thing on their minds once the journey is over. 

Charles doesn’t bother exiting the car once they pull up behind Logan’s bike. He goes back to squirming and jumping around as soon as Logan’s hand leaves him, though. Logan dumps the gas into his tank with a smirk on his face while he watches the Trans Am gently sway where it’s parked. The car’s trunk gives a satisfying click when he replaces the small can inside, and Logan struts around the car with Charles watching him in the side mirror. Ass canted towards the road, Logan braces his arm along the top of the door and waits for Charles to roll the window down. When he does, Logan lowers his sunglasses enough to make proper eye contact. Charles mimics the gesture. 

“Where to?” 

Charles’s eyes dart to the passing cars on the highway beside them. He crooks a finger at Logan, urging him down. Sighing, Logan does as asked and folds both arms along the cavity made by the rolled down window. Charles removes his sunglasses and hooks them in the neckline of his top. He reached for Logan’s faster than Logan can object and plucks them off his face. Path clear, Charles fists a hand in his white shirt and yanks his head back into the car. He bites and licks at Logan’s mouth with only a groan flying past his lips. It’s barely a kiss with how eager he is. Logan squirms a hand into the car and grabs Charles under his jaw, stilling him. He pulls away far enough to separate them, but Charles’ frantic breaths puff in his face. 

“Answer my question, Chuck. Where to?” 

Charles’ eyes flutter shut, and he mumbles, “My hotel is back towards the gas station. Just follow me.” 

“Don’t drive like an asshole and I just might,” Logan fires back with a grin. He yanks Charles closer for a parting kiss and adds on cheerfully, “Drive safely,” before letting go. 

The peck goodbye and firm hand must drive home how serious Logan is. There’s no nonsense once Logan starts the motorcycle and merges onto the highway behind Charles’ Trans Am. They obey the speed limit, use their signals at every turn, and come to complete stops at all the stop signs. Logan is almost breathless with laughter once they finally, finally roll to a stop at the door to Charles’ hotel room. The driver’s side door flies open, and Charles almost falls face-first into the dirt in his haste to get out. Logan kills the engine of his bike and remains in the saddle while watching Charles fumble with an actual key to his room. Charles’ hair arcs beautifully when he whips his head around, exasperated that Logan isn’t immediately behind him. 

“Well?” Charles attempts to settle his composure into something more controlled. He cocks his hips and puts both hands on them to appear cool. Logan spies the still evident flush on his cheeks, though, and that noticeable bulge isn’t fooling anyone. “Aren’t you coming?” 

“Not yet,” Logan mutters for the second time today. 

Logan takes his time removing his helmet and pocketing his keys. The desert wind does little to cool the sweat on the back of his neck. Running a hand through his hair that stands up on end, Logan nestles his helmet under an arm. The longer he loiters at the bike, the more Charles’ poorly constructed facade crumbles. He huffs, glances around in an annoyed kind of way, and taps his foot. Logan bites back a smirk as he finally heads towards Charles with a slight sway in his hips. Something ravenous flashes in Charles’ eyes, and he throws open the door before stepping into the dark room. AC pours out the door and pets at Logan’s sweaty face, inviting him deeper inside. He crosses the threshold without fear and kicks the door shut behind him. 

“Finally,” Charles sighs like a man who’s discovered an oasis on the brink of death. His hands are torn between pawing at Logan’s shirt and fisting the thin, damp material. Their knees knock together in his excitement. “All alone. Just little, old me and you.” 

Logan hums with his back pressed firmly to the door by Charles’ enthusiasm. More enthusiasm grinds hot and hard into his thigh before Logan makes use of his hands and pushes Charles back. 

“Less talkin’ and more gettin’ to know one another.” Logan releases one hip to untangle Charles’ fingers from his shirt. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” 

“Anything,” Charles pants at arm’s length. “Say the word, and I’m yours.” 

Logan tugs at the loops of his shorts, trying to urge him to undress. He slips his own jacket off and tosses it on the little table in the corner. With only one piece of clothing gone, Charles catches on. His hands fly to his clothes, trying to fight them off. Logan goes about disrobing at a much slower pace, enjoying the unintentional show Charles puts on. During the chaos, a thought crosses Logan’s lust-muddled mind. 

“You got condoms?” 

Breathless, Charles argues, “No need for them, but yes.” 

“‘No need’ my fuckin’ ass. You don’t know me from Adam, so there’s a definite need.” 

Charles groans exhaustedly to the ceiling and throws his shirt and shorts on top of Logan’s jacket. He is indeed commando under the shorts.

Charles says desperately, “I’m clean. **And** I can prove it.” 

Logan shucks his jeans, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs. “Yea? What proof?” 

Charles’ head nods to the door behind him, to his car outside. “I have my most recent STD results in the glove compartment of my car. You can look at them, if you don’t trust me.” 

Thumbs hooked in the waistband of his underwear, Logan pauses. “I’m not in the business of fuckin’ strangers in an unsafe way, you get me? I’ll trust your word and your papers, but I’m wearing a condom regardless. Or, I can throw my clothes back on and leave.” 

Charles’ sigh echoes off the hotel’s yellow walls, but his erection remains firm against his belly. “Fine. You said something about a little less talking and more getting to know each other?” 

Last piece of clothing at his feet, Logan steps out of his underwear and kicks them by his boots that he’d toed off before anything else. Charles’ unabashed stare at his half hard on amuses him. Charles doesn’t stare for long, though, before he twists around on a heel and practically cat walks to the bed. There, he crawls to the headboard with his luscious ass out and proud for Logan to see. He flips back over once he reaches the pillows and sits with his legs barely open. Secure at the seat of his throne, he crooks a finger at Logan to beckon him. 

“What’s on the menu, my dear friend Logan?” Charles asks from under the curtain of his hair. 

“You, by the looks of it,” he says with a husk turning his voice to gravel. 

With a knee sinking into the springy mattress, Logan stalks up the bed with his gaze matching Charles’ spark for spark. He gets to Charles’ feet, also with toenails painted, and Charles spreads his legs wide enough to accommodate him.  When Logan’s head is close enough to get a hand on, Charles’ fingers snag in his hair and yank him forward. Logan loses his balance and has to slam a hand beside Charles’ ass to keep upright. Charles drags him forward and invades Logan’s breathing space. His exhales fill Logan’s mouth as Charles anchors him this close with his eyes and tight fingers. 

Voice light and casual conversation-like, Charles murmurs, “I’ve never had the pleasure of a moustache ride, and I’m insanely curious what it feels like.” 

Logan snorts. “I don’t have a moustache.” 

Charles unravels a hand from his hair and scratches the scruff along his jaw. “Close enough.” 

“I didn’t hear a ‘please.’” 

A smirk dances on those pretty lips, and Charles somehow pulls him that much closer. Logan feels the words Charles speaks, rather than hearing them. 

“My darling Logan, please show me a good time and eat my ass.” 

Grinning, Logan twists his head in Charles’ tight grip and snaps his teeth at the tender skin of his wrist. Charles laughs at his savage escape attempt, but he releases Logan’s hair all the same. Free to move, Logan shoves Charles farther down the bed and zeros in on his neck. The pale, untouched skin had teased him since the first moment Charles had climbed out of the Trans Am an hour ago. With teeth, lips, and tongue at his disposal, Logan paints a mark here and a mark there into Charles’ skin. Legs and arms wrap around him eagerly. Charles cants his head away and groans loudly in his ear when Logan bites at his Adam’s apple. His slender hips jerk off the bed and rut against the honed muscles of Logan’s stomach. Uncut and already wet, Charles’ prick leaves a messy stripe along his skin. It’s an impatience sort of grind against him, and pinching one of his tiny, pink nipples crosses the line. 

“Oh god,” Charles pants into his hair. “Stop teasing me and get on with it.” 

“So bossy,” Logan mockingly complains. “I thought you wanted me to show you a good time?” 

Hot breath curls around his ear. “Yes, but I’d rather your mouth be doing that someplace else, if you don’t mind.” 

“You did ask nicely…” 

Logan rears back on his haunches. In quick succession, he grabs Charles’ slender hips and drags him down the bed. Charles laughs as he’s yanked and manhandled into a position Logan wants. Logan folding him in half with his hands behind Charles’ knees punches the air right out of him, though. Charles manages a groan and fists his hands in the sheets. Logan smirks between his legs. His lips are only a breath away from where Charles had asked for them. Charles struggles in Logan’s hold, wiggling impatiently to urge him on. 

“I won’t beg,” Charles promises. 

“Oh, you will.” Logan’s voice picks up a gravel quality again. “I’ll have you beggin’ for anything by the time I’m done with you.” 

The walls damn near shake apart when Charles cries at the first lick. Logan grins between his cheeks. His tongue drags around and around in ever widening circles. He enjoys the changing moans and yells from Charles depending on where his tongue is. The noises quiet, as if Charles bites his lip to stop them, when Logan is busy on the outer edge of his hole. Logan jostles Charles’ knees higher and towers above him. His shoulders cast a shadow over Charles’ red face. Logan hums as he changes the pace, flattening his tongue and favoring long, firmer strokes. Charles’ eyes are pinched shut and his mouth hangs open. The moment his eyes peek open to find Logan staring directly at him, though, Charles flings his head to the side and groans against the pillow.

Logan adjusts his hands, sliding them down to hold Charles open. He has Charles bent enough to keep his short legs out of the way. Logan grins again and rubs his facial hair on the tender skin of Charles’ ass. Charles’ groan changes to an outraged yelp right in the middle. When Logan pulls away to give his lips and tongue a break, the skin he’d rubbed against is bright red. Logan sacrifices a hand helping hold Charles up and slides his fingers up to that wet hole, pressing and massaging just to keep Charles interested. Charles’ body jerks under him, as if trying to impale himself on Logan’s fingers. There will be plenty of time for that later, Logan knows. Rolling his shoulders to the sweet song of Charles’ blabbering, Logan widens his stance on the bed and dives back down. 

His repositioned hand proves another level of sensation for Charles. It doesn’t take long now for Logan to find a particularly sensitive area to focus his attention on. Charles clenches and writhes under him when Logan pushes hard on his rim, just behind his balls. Charles’ voice chokes up, and his cute, pink cock leaks shiny precome around his navel. Logan reaches over his hips, around his leg, to swipe some up. He’s already taken a risk of rimming this brat without a dental dam, might as well go the full mile.  Waiting until Charles has gathered enough wits to open his eyes, Logan shows him the moisture on his fingers before spreading it all over his little hole. 

“Oh, sweet mercy,” Charles bites out. “Has anyone… ever told you that you’re unbelievable?” 

Thumb and tongue swirling in tandem on blood-hot flesh, Logan chuckles. “I’m not hearing a request to stop.” 

“Christ.” Charles’ head falls back to the pillow. “This has all been fantastic”—he stops there with a cry as Logan rolls his tongue over the electric bundle he’d found earlier—”I swear… Fantastic! But—” 

Logan wraps a hand around Charles’ prick at that moment and gives him a firm squeeze. It ends Charles’ rant rather abruptly, leaving behind enough air in his lungs to groan with his mouth open wide. Thumb busy stroking just under the head of Charles’ dick, Logan flicks his tongue over that abused spot again. Charles’ cries rip out of his throat perfectly timed to each loving stroke. His cock spasms in Logan’s hand. Folded in half, Logan jerks him hard enough to make him come. Logan keeps an eye open to watch the spatter make a mess on Charles’ chin and collarbones. Chuckling at a job well done, he drops Charles’ lower body back to the bed. His legs bounce, boneless for sure, but he doesn’t remain still for long. 

A hand already has his shoulder in a death grip when Charles rasps, “Come here, you insufferable!” 

Using the hand that took no part in the mess, Logan blocks Charles’ mouth already angled for a kiss. 

“No way in hell am I goin’ ass to mouth, bub.” 

A new sound slips from behind Charles’ gritted teeth. Logan might call it a growl, if Charles didn’t look so thoroughly ruined and pretty with that blush on his face. Rolling his blue eyes to the ceiling, Charles half rolls away from Logan. He mutters obscenities and complaints while smacking at the drawer in the nightstand. It eventually flies open, and he snatches a travel bottle of mouthwash from inside. He hurls it at Logan’s chest, where Logan doesn’t even bother trying to catch it. He stares at it rolling on the bed, knowing the more time he wastes the more annoyed Charles becomes. When Charles lets out a soft tut, Logan glances up with a raised eyebrow. 

“I don’t care if you spit on this heinous carpet when you’re done,” Charles threatens, “but rinse out your damn mouth and get over here.” 

Logan fists the little bottle in his hand and shakes it at Charles. “Ask and you will receive.” 

Some of the irritation dies down in that pretty face. Charles nudges his own come of his chin with the back of his hand. Craning his head back, he frowns at the mess trailing down the rest of him. Logan swishes the burning wash in his mouth while watching, sure that Charles will actually get up and clean himself a bit. He doesn’t. Charles shrugs at the stains left on his skin and flops back to the bed. Arms spread out to the side, he blinks at Logan through half-lidded eyes. His legs fall open around Logan’s knees, leading Logan’s eye down to his soft cock. Logan spits on the floor as Charles had suggested and already has a list of ideas going to make him hard again. 

Slotting his body between Charles’ legs, Logan leans his full weight on top of him and finally submits to the kiss Charles had demanded. A surprised sound vibrates against Logan’s mouth before Charles’ eager hands bury in his hair. Charles surges forward, almost knocking their teeth together in his haste. Logan grumbles into the kiss and flattens Charles back to the bed. Slim hips jerk against Logan’s cock, which had flagged without any attention. Lips and tongue eager to send Charles spiraling again, Logan plunders that bossy mouth for all its worth. The burning taste of mouthwash subsides after a few vigorous kisses. Charles gasps when they separate, with his lips kiss bruised and redder than ever. Charles lifts his legs around Logan’s waist and squeezes him.

“Condoms are in the drawer where I had the mouthwash,” Charles pants. “Lube, too. Don’t tease me anymore. I’m ready.” 

Logan smirks at him. “What, you don’t want me to make you blow another load just by finger fucking you?” Charles makes a face at him. “Charlie, you’re breakin’ my heart.” 

Charles bucks up, giving Logan something solid to rut against. Logan’s teasing smile slips from his face. His hands, rougher than necessary, hold Charles’ hips to the bed as he grinds down. He’ll leave bruises, but the wanton way Charles’ hair spills over the pillow as he tosses his head makes it all worth it. Logan’s hips stutter to a halt before he makes both of them come without getting to the main event. Sweat gathers on the back of his neck and on his palms where he’s holding Charles down. Logan wipes a hand on the hotel bed sheets before reaching over for condoms and lube. He doesn’t think about why Charles had so many of both. It’s better to be safe and over prepared than not, he reasons. 

Charles sits up and paws at his thighs and stomach while Logan rips open some lube. His hands stray down, towards Logan’s erection. But Logan elbows him away and sneers at him. When Charles tries to rise again, Logan shoves him down and keeps him down with a hand on his chest. Charles fires off the angriest pout Logan has ever seen. It catches him off guard enough to make him laugh. Logan walks up the bed on his knees to settle between Charles’ legs again. The fight under his hand still splayed on that thin chest turns rambunctious, though, and Logan eases up. The thought crosses him that maybe Charles has changed his mind. The lube and condoms are still in his hand when Charles bends forward to smack a kiss on his lips. 

“I had something else in mind,” Charles murmurs in between another kiss. “I’d rather like it if you”—he pokes a finger hard in the center of Logan’s chest—”laid down, with me on top of you.” 

Snorting out his nose and batting Charles’ poky finger away, Logan says, “We call that position ‘cowgirl.’ And I’d be thrilled to oblige you.” 

Plans made, they shuffle around on the bed to trade positions. Logan shoves the pillows up to the headboard and leans his shoulders and neck against them. Charles kneels at his side with his lip caught between his teeth. He glances down the muscled, hairy length of Logan’s body, lingering of course on his semi. Charles’ eyes flash up to his face for a moment before returning to the feast before him. He lifts his hand slow enough to give Logan a chance to stop him, if he’d wanted, and palms the velvety skin of his cock. Charles’ lip slips from between his teeth when he smiles. 

“I was ecstatic, you know, to find out you’re uncut like I am. It’s so hard to find in America.” 

Logan’s hips jerk up all on their own accord. Charles strokes him like this is the hundredth time they’ve done this, grip firm and not shy of his foreskin. Coaxing him with twists of his wrist and teasing swipes over the head, Charles builds him up to an actual erection before letting him go. Charles wastes no time swinging a leg over him, reminding Logan of people mounting horses. Before his mood sours at his own comparison to a beast of burden, Charles’ lips twist in a smirk as he grinds his ass into Logan’s lap. Logan bites back a groan before Charles hears it and catches wind of exactly how much he likes that. Logan paws at the bed sheets where he’d left the lube and condoms. His other hand snags Charles’ bobbing erection and serves sweet revenge for his twisting, grinding ways. 

Charles’ motions stutter to a stop as he gives tiny thrusts up into Logan’s hand instead. Through hazy, narrowed eyes, Charles almost glares at him. “No more teasing. I wanted your cock in me an hour ago.” 

“Fancy that,” Logan drawls. His hand slips from Charles’ erection to help the other tear at a single serving of lube. If it explodes a little between his hands in his haste, neither of them notices. “I was thinkin’ the same thing, really.” 

Charles shuffles forward on his knees, raising himself up so that Logan can get a hand between his cheeks. Logan snatches Charles’ jaw in his clean hand and yanks him down for another kiss. Charles’ lips are still warm and tender from the attack he’d launched on Logan earlier. However, neither of them taste like mouthwash any longer. Humming against Charles’ mouth, Logan swirls the pads of his index and middle fingers around Charles’ hole. He’s not as tight as when they’d started, Logan’s tongue having excited and loosened him some, but he’s certainly not ready. Logan tries to wiggle two fingers in from the get go, but Charles backs off and hisses in pain. 

“Sorry,” Logan apologizes with a chuckle. “I’ll go slow.” 

Charles leans close again to kiss him. “Yes, be gentle with me.” 

Snorting, Logan rolls his eyes and slips a finger in without waiting. “Oh yea, I’ll be real gentle with this tight ass of yours.” He pulls nearly all the way out only to shallowly thrusts back in. “I gotta be, otherwise I’ll tear you apart.” The last knuckle of Logan’s index finger slams against Charles’ ass when he plunges back in, lightning fast. “Gotta show you a good time, right?” 

His middle finger sinks through tightness and heat to the dark sound of Charles moaning from the back of his throat. With his mouth crying to the ceiling, Logan has a perfect view of his body from Charles’ flushed throat to his renewed erection. Charles shakes with every squelching thrust, and his hips roll with the motion when Logan retreats to his entrance. Logan himself sucks in a deep breath while watching Charles twitch and bob on his fingers. Shaking himself out of the trance Charles put him in, Logan sets his other hand up on the pale expanse of Charles’ thighs. Logan drags a hand up one, grazing his fingertips along skin and missed hairs, only to cross over Charles’ balls and caress down the other thigh. With three fingers stuffed in him, and Logan’s pinky making an honest attempt for a fourth, Charles swoops down to hover above him. 

Logan leans his head away when Charles aims a sloppy kiss at him. His bruised lips drag along Logan’s jawline and facial hair. Charles grumbles and tries again, all while still rolling his hips to Logan’s rhythm. As pleasant as fingering Charles is, with his tightness and pretty noises at every touch over his prostate, Logan has grander ideas in mind. Plus, the lube is starting to wear out on his fingers. He slips free from Charles’ hole with a smirk on his face, ready for whatever attitude Charles throws at him. Lips still pecking at his mouth and face, Charles breathes against Logan’s cheek with a violent shiver.

“Ready?” Logan asks. 

Those devilish eyes barely flutter open when Logan speaks. Charles groans and squeezes them shut again. His forehead sticks to Logan’s equally sweaty skin as he leans against him. 

“Give it to me,” Charles mumbles beside Logan’s ear. 

Hands on Charles’ hips, Logan pushes him back until Charles straddles his thighs. It allows Logan plenty of room to slip a condom on and stroke lube onto himself. Charles watches through heavily lidded eyes as a shiver wracks his body. He lifts a hand to touch Logan’s shining cock, but Logan yanks him forward before giving him a chance. Charles grunts at the manhandling, but he still rises up on his knees when Logan leads him. They shuffle together, Charles eager and Logan with a hand on himself. The head of his dick bumps Charles’ opening, but he doesn’t give Charles what he wants, yet. Logan smiles when Charles gives a little tantrum struggle, trying to force Logan’s hand. 

Charles bends down again and digs his short nails into Logan’s pecs. Logan swears under his breath, “Get your kitten claws outta me, kid.” 

Chuckling under his breath, Charles wiggles his hips and purrs back, “Didn’t I warn you about teasing me? Stop faffing about and—” 

Logan pressing the blunt head of his dick through the first, tight inches inside Charles effectively cuts off his sassy mouth. Whatever else Charles had to say gets caught up in a drawn out moan. His nails scratch red lines on Logan’s chest as his fingers curl into fists. Logan hums through the brutal squeeze and pressure of barely pushing inside. Charles’ shoulders shake and lift towards his ears as he tenses. Shushing his wanton noises, Logan pulls his guiding hand away from his cock and smoothes his palm up Charles’ blushing chest. His fingers skate across the flushed skin pulled taut over Charles’ collarbones while Charles gathers himself. Logan adjusts his hip to sink deeper inside, but Charles flinches under his hand. 

“Wait, wait,” Charles pants through his mouth, breathless and quiet. “Just wait a moment. Let me feel you.” 

Sweat itches above Logan’s eyebrows. He knocks his head against his bicep to wipe it away. Their heavy breaths fill the hotel room and roar in their ears while Logan holds Charles still. Trembling, Charles lifts his fists from Logan’s chest and settles them on his own thighs. They’re spread wide around Logan’s waist, showing off the curve of muscle and tendons working together. Somehow, he’s still hard between his legs with no one having touched him. A shaking hand slips from Charles’ thigh to tuck fingers into the root of his cock, as if holding back an orgasm already. 

“What,” Logan grumbles good naturedly, “gonna come when I’m not even all the way in you, yet?” The hand he still has on Charles’ hips urges him down a bit more, slipping maybe another inch inside him. “I thought you wanted all this?” 

Charles glares at him through lust-hazed eyes, but his teeth snag his bottom lip before he can retort. Logan shifts under him in a gentle rhythm. It’s not quite thrusting, but Logan is through with staying still. It nearly winds Logan, how tight Charles is even after the rimming and fingering. When Charles’ grimace doesn’t lessen on his face, Logan sucks in a breath and pulls back a bit. Charles’ hands fly up to cover the one he has on that pale chest. Charles clutches at him and peels his eyes open, begging with those pretty blues. Charles clenching around him is what finally makes Logan still again. 

“Don’t stop,” Charles pants. “It was good j-just don’t stop now…” 

Hand squeezing Charles’ hip, Logan nudges through the tightness gripping him and thrusts back up. The movement punches a high-pitched moan out from between Charles’ teeth. His blush increases when their eyes meet, and Charles turns his head away in embarrassment. His fingers tangle around Logan’s still on his chest. Encouraged, Logan jerks his hips up again to feed more of his cock into Charles. When another grimace unfurls on Charles’ lips, Logan goes no farther. His lower body takes up the short, languid thrusts he’d tried before. Logan waits until Charles moves with him, until Charles stops chewing on his bottom lip to try more. They pant back and forth to one another, the only other sound in the room being the squelch of lube in Charles’ ass. They aren’t moving vigorously enough for the bed to squeak, but Logan bets that it will. 

Charles’ head falls back as he moans to the ceiling, “More!” 

Logan smacks away Charles’ hands from keeping his trapped. Now free, Logan pinches a tiny, pink nipple and rolls it between his thumb and index finger. The muscles just under Charles’ navel jump and tense at the touch. Charles rolls his hips with Logan’s movements the longer Logan keeps up his gentle pace. Logan frowns up at Charles as the drag his skin hinders more vigorous thrusts when he tries. Rolling his eyes, Logan drops his pinching hand back to Charles’ hips and starts to lift him up. Charles abruptly cuts off his moan and scratches at Logan’s thick fingers clutching his hips. 

“What do you think you’re doing? Just when it was getting good—” 

“Calm down, Princess, we need more lube. Unless you wanna dig the pieces of a broken condom outta your ass?” 

Charles makes a face at him and stops clawing at his hands. “Must you be so… lewd?” 

“Absolutely.” Logan pulls Charles forward so that he kneels higher up on his body. It’s easier to get at the lube and condoms with him there. He reapplies everything while distracting Charles with idle chitchat. “You know you love it, babydoll.” 

Charles groans and rolls his eyes. “You and pet names.” 

“Says the guy who called me ‘darling’ earlier.” 

Logan doesn’t give Charles the time to respond, but simply lifts him with minimal effort and slips back inside him. Charles’ pretty mouth had hung open in a retort, ready to defend himself. But with Logan seated inside him again and immediately picking up the pace, slamming up with powerful surges of his hips, his words are lost in a filthy moan. True to Logan’s recent bet, the springs beneath them won’t be outdone by Charles’ screams and begin to groan with their movements. Logan grins—all teeth and nastiness—up at Charles’ slack-jawed face. He grunts with the force of his body driving up, up into Charles until there’s nothing else left to fuck into his tight hole. Charles’ hands scramble from his shoulders, down to his chest, and even fly up into his own hair. He can’t decide where to hang on, but the stream of babbling that flows from his mouth assures Logan of one thing: he’s good. 

“Oh god, don’t stop! Don’t you d-dare stop, fuck... Fuck!” 

His hands are leaving bruises on Charles’ hips, but Logan doesn’t let up. With his feet flat on the bed, it’s easier to snap his body up and punch more gasps out of Charles. Logan spares a glance to his pretty cock, leaving a wet trail every time it smacks against Charles’ stomach. Logan changes his tempo from brutal, snapping thrusts to vicious and short. Charles can barely keep up with this, but he tries to move along with Logan anyway. The thick muscles in Charles’ thighs jump at the chance to send him bouncing in Logan’s lap. Logan sacrifices an anchoring hand at Charles’ hips and snatches up his poor, neglected prick. Charles coughs and chokes on a groan when Logan wraps his hand around him.

“So close, so close, ohh please. Please, please.” 

“I got ya, Princess,” Logan grunts up at Charles’ crimson face. “Come whenever you want, I got you.” 

Charles’ movements, already ill-timed and uncoordinated, turn sloppy and jerky as he comes. Logan’s eyes zero in where his thumb swirls over the head of Charles’ cock, with little spurts of come gushing out of him. Humming, Logan pulls his hand away before Charles is even done. He has himself to take care of, and he _did_ promise Charles a good time. Charles is boneless and pliant now that he’s come, and Logan has to support even more of his weight. Sweat collects at Logan’s brow and his upper lip as he dives closer to his own release. There’s tightness behind his navel, sinking down into his gut and setting everything ablaze with electricity. Charles blinks down at him with hazy, unfocused blue eyes and those awful lips bitten to shreds when he comes. 

“Shit,” Logan spits out with a final snap of his hips. 

Charles’ fingers spasm on his chest where they’d sought purchase through his orgasm. He sighs when Logan finally stops moving. Logan can’t keep his eyes open as his orgasm rushes out of him, but when he can peel his heavy lids open again, it’s Charles’ blissful face he sees first. They’re sticky with lube and sweat, but they watch each other with lazy smiles. Charles snorts down at him and lists to the side, unseating himself from Logan’s dick. Logan groans at the loss, but he rolls away from Charles, too. He dispatches with the messy condoms, tossing them deftly into a nearby trashcan. He attempts to stand on jelly legs, but Charles’ hand pawing at his thigh stops him. Logan gazes over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. He smirks at Charles, who lies belly down on the old hotel bed, with his used ass left to the open air. Logan can’t resist leaning over the bed to get a hand on a cheek and shake it softly. 

“Hmm, don’t go,” Charles sighs. He allows Logan to fondle his ass without protest. “Stay for a bit, won’t you?” 

“Not goin’ anywhere,” Logan grumbles back with a final smack on Charles’ ass. He enjoys Charles’ pitiful whine and tiny jump. “Gonna find a washcloth in this dump and clean your ass.” 

Charles closes his eyes while rolling them. “Such a way with words you have.” 

“You know it.” 

Logan finds said washcloth in the bathroom and trusts that it’s clean enough to touch their bodies. He splashes water on the sweat trickling down his face, moping it away with a large hand. Dripping, he returns to the bed to find Charles still lying face down, with his head buried in a pillow. The bed dips beneath him when he kneels beside Charles. Charles doesn’t even squeak when Logan swipes the sweat off his back, his thighs. He whines a bit when the Logan wipes the rough cloth between his cheeks, but Logan doesn’t mean for it to hurt. Logan tosses the rag in the direction of the bathroom, satisfied with the wet smack of it on tiles. Groaning and weak, he lowers himself slowly to Charles’ side. 

Charles is already flipping over when he settles down. Logan doesn’t expect cuddling, not after the romp they’ve had. But Charles does shuffle close to drag lazy fingers along his muscles. Their legs tangle and drag together almost without permission. Charles blinks tiredly at all the skin before him, and his touch wanders without purpose or intent. Logan hesitates to return such casual, personal touch. But once he dives a hand into Charles’ sweat damp hair, he can’t stop. Charles noses against his wrist with a sigh as Logan rubs small circles into his scalp. He has to force his eyes open when Logan’s fingers sink into a tight muscle along his neck. Even still, those blue eyes flutter with the effort. 

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye, Logan.” 

Logan presses his mouth to Charles’ warm forehead in an almost-kiss. His voice vibrates off their skin in the small space between them. 

“I won’t.”

 


End file.
